Remember the Last
by Frankie Beeblebrox
Summary: Dumbledor's missive instructed Petunia to 'remember my last", but what if that WASN't the last letter Petunia Dursley recieved?


"Won't! Won't! Won't won't won't won't won't won't won't!!!!!!!"  
  
"Now, Diddy-Dumkins, come on and eat your toast for Mummy."  
  
"WON'T!!!"  
  
"Don't you want to grow up big and strong like daddy?"  
  
Petunia sighed as her sons toast became airborne for the umpteenth time  
  
that morning. "Vernon, what can I do? He needs to eat. Look at him! He's  
  
still a growing baby!"   
  
"Smart boy. Knows there is something better in the cupboard."   
  
Vernon Dursley walked carefully into the toast infested kitchen and pecked  
  
his wife on the cheek. "Good morning, dear. Give him a bit of the leftover  
  
cake from last night. That should go down well."  
  
"CAKE!!!! Cake, cake, cake,cake, cake, cake!!!"  
  
"Well, that settles it. What a smart boy we have, here! Knows what he  
  
wants early in life, Pet. That's a good sign." Vernon settled his bulk into  
  
the chair opposite his son and looked askance at the other end of the table.   
  
"What about that one? Have you made a decision?"  
  
Petunia glanced down the room at the small boy looking owlishly at the  
  
proceedings around him with bright green eyes. He had been so quiet, compared  
  
to Dudley, that Petunia had forgotten he was even there.   
  
"I don't know yet, Vernon. You said you would give me the week to figure  
  
out somewhere he can go, and it's only been two days."  
  
"I know I said I would give you time to deal with that. . . boy, but he's  
  
already becoming a pest. Look at him! He has 'abnormal' written all over him!  
  
I don't want our son growing up with that. . . influence on him." Vernon  
  
blustered. Petunia looked around the table, from her raging son, to her quickly  
  
purpling husband to her nephew, seated calmly at the end of the table.   
  
"I said I would tell you in a few days. It's no easy task, finding a home  
  
for a baby. Even a normal one. Now please, go fetch the post. I heard it drop  
  
and you know the bills are coming due shortly."   
  
Petunia turned her back on her husband and began preparing a plate of cake  
  
for her son. After a few minutes of grumbling, she heard Vernon rise from the  
  
chair and plod off into the front hall.   
  
"Cake, cake, cake, cake, cake, cake!!!!!"  
  
"Yes, my little Duddy-Wumpkins. Mummy has some cake for you," Petunia  
  
crooned. Her nephew continued to stare politely at her.  
  
"I suppose your hungry, too? Well, you can have this, I suppose." she  
  
answered the green eyed stare, plopping some of the discarded toast on a plate  
  
and shoving it in front of her nephew. He looked quizzically down at the soggy  
  
bread and then back up at Petunia. "What? Not good enough? Well, it's what we  
  
have and you should be thankful for it."  
  
She knew she had no real reason to be upset at the boy. It wasn't HIS  
  
fault he had shown up on her doorstep, alone and parentless, with only a note  
  
from that old man her sister had chosen to associate with. He could not have  
  
helped it, any more than he could understand what she was saying in the first  
  
place.   
  
"You do know your parents are dead. They are gone, and it is all that boys  
  
fault. If he hadn't dragged Lily into this mess. . . "  
  
"Petunia?" Vernon asked from behind her. She started and almost dropped  
  
the plate of cake she had been holding. "Are you alright?"  
  
"Fine, Vernon. I am fine. Did you grab the post?"  
  
He started sorting through the bundle of papers in his hand as Petunia  
  
placed the cake in front of her screaming son.   
  
"Bill. . . bill. . . advertisement. . .bill. . . oh. Something for you,  
  
dear."  
  
"For me?" asked Petunia. "I wonder what that could be." She took the letter  
  
from his hand and studied the parchment envelope for a moment. "How odd."  
  
"There was no return address on it, I noticed."  
  
"No, nothing. . . wait a moment. . . " Petunia gave an involuntary shudder  
  
as she recognized the handwriting.   
  
"What is it, Pet? Figure out who it's from?"  
  
"Yes. . . yes, I. . . I think I know." she said softly. "Vernon, please  
  
watch the boys. I am going to go read my letter."  
  
Vernon answered her, but the sound was lost on Petunia. She walked into the  
  
living room, still staring at the letter. It was addressed to her in green ink.   
  
"It can't be. How. . ." she said softly, but she couldn't make herself  
  
believe it. She knew the handwriting, even if she hadn't seen it in years.   
  
Carefully, she opened the letter, so as to tear the least amount of  
  
parchment possible. It wasn't very long, and as she saw the words, she could  
  
feel tears pricking the back of her eyes.   
  
10-31-81  
  
My Dear Pet,  
  
I honestly have no idea how to write this to you. I sometimes think we have  
  
grown so far apart that there is no common ground for us any more, and I will  
  
take some responsibility for that. I know how hard it was for you, taking care  
  
of Mum when Dad died, and I am sorry I couldn't be there more. I wish I could  
  
have seen them both more towards the end.   
  
I also wish I could see you. I know you have a son now, about Harry's  
  
age, I imagine. I ran into Mrs. Figg (from down the street) a few months ago  
  
and she told me about Dudley. He sounds wonderful. I can just imagine how  
  
proud you and Vernon must be.   
  
I am so sorry we have grown apart these past years. This is a burden that  
  
has been eating away at me for a while now, and I haven't had the strength to  
  
face it. It would mean admitting I was wrong, and well, you did always say I  
  
was more stubborn than anyone. But now I have a problem, and I have no idea  
  
where else to turn.   
  
I don't know how much Mum told you about my world before she died, but even  
  
she didn't know the half of it. I couldn't see scaring her needlessly, the same  
  
as I couldn't see dragging you into this mess. Until now   
  
Pet, I am scared. I am scared to death. There is a war going on at the  
  
moment, and I am right in the middle of it. No, it won't be anything you have  
  
really heard about. . . but do you remember the 'bombing' in Trenton? And the  
  
family that was slaughtered in their beds in Kent? It was all done by magic.   
  
By the worst Dark Wizard who has lived in a very long time. Possibly ever. And  
  
he is coming after my family.   
  
I can't go into everything that's happening, but I want you to know that I  
  
believe in what I am doing. I know that I am working for the betterment of all  
  
our lives, and that the cause James and I are helping can't fail. I know this  
  
probably sounds very silly, and you can choose to believe all of this or not,  
  
but I am going to ask you for something very important.   
  
I don't know if I am going to make it through this war. I don't know if  
  
James is going to make it through this war. I do, however, know that Harry will  
  
make it through this. He has to. I don't think I could live another day with  
  
the thought that he won't. So I have taken several precautions, in an attempt  
  
to keep him safe.   
  
For one of these, I will need your help. I have tried my hardest to make  
  
sure I will be there for him for years to come, but if I fail, I would like you  
  
to look after him. I know it's a huge task, and something you won't be  
  
expecting from me, but I need you, Pet. If I can't be there for my son, I want  
  
to know that someone I love and trust will be. I need to know my son will be  
  
safe, and I don't think he will be with a wizarding family if James and I are  
  
gone.  
  
I won't ask you to answer right a"ll. . . advertisement. . .bill. . way.   
  
It isn't safe for you to write me here, anyway. Please, just think about it. I  
  
need to know my son will be safe when I am gone. I can think of nowhere he else  
  
he could survive. tthe parchment envelope for a moment.  
  
I should sign off for now. I know how you both feel about owl post, so I  
  
am hoping to sneak into town and drop this off with the post office. I have to  
  
go to work early, as there are rumors of something big happening tonight. Give  
  
my love to Vernon and Dudley.   
  
With love,  
  
Tiger-Lily  
  
Petunia stared at the parchment for several minutes after she had finished  
  
reading through it. She had no idea how long she had been sitting there, until  
  
she heard a slight cough behind her.   
  
"Errr. . . Petunia? Dear? Is everything okay?"  
  
She took a shaky breath and rounded on her husband. "Everything is fine,  
  
Vernon. Why wouldn't it be?"   
  
"So, who was the letter from? Anyone important?"  
  
Petunia clutched the parchment tightly. "An old friend."  
  
"Oh. Ah. . . "  
  
Petunia looked from the letter, to Vernon, and to the door separating them  
  
from the kitchen where Dudley was screaming for more cake. "Vernon? I have  
  
made a decision about Harry. "  
  
Vernon's eyes lit up "Yes, dear? Where are we sending him?"  
  
"Harry will remain here." She would have found the look on Vernon's face  
  
comical if she hadn't been on the verge of a collapse herself.   
  
"Here? But. . .but, Pet. . ."  
  
Petunia took a deep breath. "The neighbors have seen him here, and it  
  
will cause a scandal to send him away so quickly. We will simply have to learn  
  
to live with it. And Vernon. . . please don't call me Pet anymore. I. . . I've  
  
never really liked that nickname of yours, anyway."  
  
"But, Pet. . .unia, listen to reason. . . "  
  
"Vernon, please look after Dudley and Harry for a while. I. . . I have a  
  
headache. I think I am going to go lie down."   
  
She could still hear Vernon spluttering in the back of her mind, but she  
  
was using all of her might to focus her steps up the staircase. . . away from  
  
everyone. . . She had to get away. . .   
  
In her room was a shoe box of pictures from her youth. Two girls, arms  
  
wrapped around each other, grinning like maniacs in front of the swimming pool.   
  
Two girls, one pushing the other on the swing set. Two girls, both wearing a  
  
garish amount of their mothers make-up. . . two girls. . .   
  
Petunia sank onto the floor with pictures in hand and, for the first time,  
  
wept for the loss of her sister. 


End file.
